


where you are is home

by Novindalf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Red Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novindalf/pseuds/Novindalf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the asoiafkinkmeme prompt: <i>and Ned was waiting...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	where you are is home

Her eyes opened to a cold, grey world, as endless and murky as the depths of the Trident. The mist that swirled and settled on her cold, grey skin chilled the air and dulled what little light reached her through the eerie fog.

Out of the corner of her eye a single snowflake, pure and white against the dirty grey mist, floated down, caught on a breeze that she could not feel, and she raised her hands to catch it in her palms. She felt – she _felt_ – its icy glow searing through her, warming her skin, and as she watched the still-angry, red welts from so long ago faded to strong, smooth scars.

She clenched her hand into a fist around the snowflake, then relaxed, watched it thaw on her healed palm. As soon as it had melted to crystal clear another fell to take its place, then another, and another and another. She touched her fingers to her cheeks where yet more flakes landed and felt no bloody gouges, only unmarred skin, cool and soft to the touch.

A lock of hair fell into her face, not the brittle white straw she remembered and feared, and she brushed it back in awe. Where the snowflakes landed they transformed her flesh and brought a rosy glow to her skin. They turned her torn, mud- and blood-stained shift to a soft and warm woollen gown, her tattered cloak to furs. They washed the blood from her fingers and from under her nails, and when she tilted her head to catch the snowflakes on her tongue they landed on her neck and healed the deep gash there too. Colour flushed to her cheeks, her lips and her eyes, and the grey mist cleared to reveal a floor of brown and gold and russet leaves, a sky of rich greens and stormy blues, and walls of weirwood white and castle stone overgrown with moss. Beyond the walls she could sense the warmth in the halls and feel the glow of the fires.

Then she heard her children’s laughter, and above them all a warm chuckle that melted the ice inside her.

She ran and she wept. Her children were safe and they were home, and she was home.

And Ned was waiting.


End file.
